Chapter 52

Before the tombstone of the Yi, a long silence lingered.

The bloody past from a thousand years ago was torn open—who was at fault?
Was Kunlun wrong? The eternal feud between immortals and demons led to recalling its sole disciple to guard the immortal realm, sealing his memories, and disregarding human ethics.

Yet for the old sect master and elders of Kunlun at the time, wasn’t it all for the sake of preserving peace in the immortal realm?

Was Rong Xian wrong? Born of the immortal clan, he fell in love with a demon, unable to forsake the gratitude and obligations to his sect nor his attachment to his wife and child.

In the end, he mistakenly killed his child and drove his wife to her death.

“Who was wrong? Who was wrong? Linglong, was it me, or was it the heavens?”

The hunched figure before the tombstone bent down, hoarsely questioning.

The clouds obscured the moon as chaotic spiritual energy emanated from Rong Xian, startling the birds of the nameless mountain into flight.

A sound, half wail and half roar, erupted from his throat.

Everyone felt a strange, icy chill radiating from him.

Before they could react, the figure before the tomb suddenly turned around.

“Blood. Linglong, Xin’er… they were covered in blood.”

Rong Xian extended his hands toward the group, his gaze deranged.

“Master, elders, look! My hands are stained with their blood. I killed them with my own hands. All for your so-called immortal path, for your Kunlun!”

“What the hell? Why’s he throwing a fit at us? The old Kunlun sect master’s been dead for a thousand years!”

Mu Jiu shivered as he looked around nervously.

“Damn it,” Bai Shuo’s heart sank.

“The memory of Clan Leader Linglong’s tragic death has awakened the killing intent buried deep in Sect Master Rong Xian’s mind. He’s reliving the battlefield from a thousand years ago. To him, we’re the Kunlun sect master and elders of the past!”

“What?!” Mu Jiu shouted indignantly, glaring at Beichen.

“You sword cultivators… urgh!”

Before Mu Jiu could finish, Rong Xian waved his hand.

The snow-white iron sword embedded in the ground flew into the air, slashing toward the group.

A torrent of sword energy descended indiscriminately from the sky.

Without hesitation, Fan Yue grabbed Bai Shuo and leaped aside.

Chong Zhao, slower by a step, was struck by the sword energy, groaning as he stumbled back several steps.

At that moment, Beichen dashed forward, channeling Kunlun sword energy to form a small barrier that shielded the group.

“Sect Master! Don’t!”

Beichen struggled to maintain the barrier, trying to rouse Rong Xian.

“Wake up! The old sect master has long ascended!”

“Shouting is useless! He’s gone mad! Can’t you see that?!”

Mu Jiu dodged the sword energy frantically, yelling in exasperation.

“They’re all dead! Why are you still alive?!”

Rong Xian’s eyes blazed with killing intent as he approached the group step by step.

With each step, the iron sword descended further. Before he reached them, cracks had already spread across Beichen’s sword energy barrier.

The overwhelming sword energy pierced through the barrier, targeting the group. Even a brush of it shredded their robes instantly.

“Damn you, Beichen! All Kunlun sword cultivators are lunatics! Why should a demon like me die for your immortal clan’s stupid mistakes?!”

Mu Jiu ducked and weaved behind Beichen, cursing loudly.

A final sweep of the sword light shattered Beichen’s barrier.

Everyone coughed blood as they were thrown to the ground.

Rong Xian’s eyes were filled with murderous intent as he raised the iron sword again.

The overwhelming sword energy of a peak celestial struck down like a tidal wave—

“Ah Shuo!” Chong Zhao struggled to rise, ready to shield Bai Shuo with his body.

“Mumu, be careful!”

Bai Shuo reflexively embraced Fan Yue beside her, shielding him from the sword energy.

Chong Zhao froze mid-motion, his outstretched hand stiff in the air.

At the same moment, Fan Yue reversed Bai Shuo’s position without hesitation, using his own back to face the incoming strike.

Just as the sword energy was about to engulf them, a flash of red light appeared.

With a deafening explosion, the countless streams of sword energy were reduced to dust.

Rong Xian fell heavily to the ground, his Kunlun iron sword clattering beside him.

Everyone, barely clinging to life, stared blankly ahead.

Standing before them was a flamboyant figure in bright, gaudy clothes.

It was none other than the burly blacksmith Big Iron Flower, holding an iron staff pressed against the Kunlun sword cultivator’s forehead.

Mu Jiu and Bai Shuo blinked in disbelief, while the rest remained silent.

Only Fan Yue seemed entirely fixated on Bai Shuo, his grip on her hand tightening as he pursed his lips in apparent anger.

Bai Shuo, oblivious to her disciple’s emotions, suddenly remembered something and turned toward Chong Zhao.

Chong Zhao had already retracted his hand.

He looked indifferently at the two figures before him, as though he had forgotten Bai Shuo.

Yet only he knew his nails had dug into his palms so deeply that icy blood seeped out.

Relieved to see Chong Zhao unharmed, Bai Shuo paid no heed to the turbulent emotions around her.

She turned her gaze toward the towering blacksmith, licking her lips nervously.

Kunlun’s thousand-year sword cultivator, a peak supreme immortal lord, had his full-strength strike dissipated by a single iron staff.

Was she dreaming?

This blacksmith—who spent her days chasing her for stealing chickens—was this powerful?!

“Damn it! Incredible! Hey, brother, what’s your name? Let’s be friends. I’m Jingyou Mu Jiu…”

Mu Jiu’s eyes sparkled as he leaped toward Big Iron Flower to pat her on the shoulder.

Without warning, Big Iron Flower swung her staff, sending Mu Jiu flying.

Just as Mu Jiu was about to yell in protest, he froze in horror.

Rong Xian had risen again, his head bowed as the Kunlun iron sword returned to his grasp.

Mu Jiu had landed right beside him.

Clutching his racing heart, Mu Jiu quickly hid behind Big Iron Flower.

“Senior, the events of a thousand years ago are long past and have nothing to do with us,” Big Iron Flower said lazily, yawning as she rested the iron staff on her shoulder.

“If you have grievances, go to the underworld to find the Kunlun sword cultivators of that era.”

In the distance, Rong Xian suddenly raised his head, his red eyes filled with killing intent.

He stared coldly at the group and raised the Kunlun iron sword again.

An unparalleled sword intent shot into the sky, black clouds rolling over the mountainside.

Lightning struck the iron sword, amplifying its power severalfold.

Big Iron Flower’s expression shifted as her staff glowed red.

The casual demeanor vanished.

“Damn it! What’s the immortal clan doing?! Didn’t Jinyao seal off the spiritual energy in Yi city? Why isn’t he affected?!”

Mu Jiu cursed, fumbling to activate the small Wheel of Destruction, but only a faint glimmer of demonic energy emerged.

Bai Shuo’s eyes lit up with sudden realization as she turned toward Rong Xian.

So that’s it!

No wonder Rong Xian was unharmed when Nan Wan stabbed him.

While everyone else in Yi city had their spiritual energy suppressed, Rong Xian still possessed immense power.

The seal in Yi city suppressed the energy of immortals and demons alike.

Only one type of being could remain unaffected—someone of a different race.

But Rong Xian was an immortal.

He wasn’t of a different race.

That left only one possibility: he was neither immortal nor demon. Or rather, he wasn’t Rong Xian at all!

A mortal being could only go so far.

If he didn’t surrender to his limits, no one could defeat him!

“Clan Leader Linglong was born of the fox clan!”

Just as the Kunlun iron sword, wrapped in lightning, was about to strike again, Bai Shuo suddenly broke free of Fan Yue’s grip and rushed in front of Big Iron Flower, shouting at Rong Xian.

“Ah Shuo!”

“Bai Shuo!”

Chong Zhao and Fan Yue’s faces changed simultaneously, and they rushed forward, only for Bai Shuo to wave them back.

“Don’t come any closer!”

They halted, as the Kunlun iron sword froze mid-air.

Rong Xian raised his eyes, showing a glimmer of awareness for the first time in his frenzy.

He fixed his gaze on Bai Shuo.

Bai Shuo, however, looked past him at the three tombstones behind him.

“I once thought that one of these tombs was empty, and that Senior was guarding the graves of his wife and daughter for a thousand years. But now I realize… if Senior Rong Xian’s seal was created by the Kunlun sect master, it should’ve been broken by the blood of his kin. Senior must have been a man of profound love and loyalty. With debts of gratitude and vengeance toward his sect, how could he have endured in this world? If I’m not mistaken, he followed Clan Leader Linglong into death a thousand years ago. You… are not Senior Rong Xian.”

Everyone stared blankly.

“What nonsense are you spouting, girl?”

Mu Jiu muttered, rubbing his nose.

“If he’s not Rong Xian, how could he wield the Kunlun iron sword?”

“He can!”

Bai Shuo’s gaze was resolute.

“If Senior Rong Xian chose the most tragic way to die, then he could!”

“W-what… kind of death…?”

“In ancient times, it was said, ‘To dissect a golden core alive and destroy it ensures an eternity of unrest, forever doomed to the depths of hell,’” Bai Shuo spoke slowly.

Silence enveloped the nameless tomb as all eyes turned toward the elderly figure with white hair.

For the immortals and demons of the Three Realms, it was preferable to destroy one’s own golden core and perish rather than let it be taken by another.

If the golden core remained, the soul could never find peace.

“He was already at the peak of the Supreme immortal Lord stage. Other than a god, who could have silently and effortlessly dissected his golden core?”

But the gods would never do such a thing.

“He did it himself.”

Bai Shuo’s words left the group speechless, stunned into disbelief.

“In Yi city, spiritual energy is suppressed, binding both immortals and demons without exception. The fact that you are unaffected by the formation proves you are neither immortal nor demon. Yet the Kunlun Sword recognizes you as its master. The only thing capable of commanding it besides Master Rong Xian himself is his golden core.”

“You mean to say… it… it’s…?”

Mu Jiu was wide-eyed in shock.

“Senior, you were born from the resentment of Master Rong Xian. Or rather, you are the golden core that Master Rong Xian dissected from himself, am I correct?”

Golden cores have no inherent sentience, yet this one bore all of Rong Xian’s pain and anger when it was severed. It became tainted, gaining consciousness, and manifested as “Rong Xian.” It became the vessel for his thousand years of guilt and the guardian of these three nameless tomb.

“Rong Xian” looked at Bai Shuo but did not deny her words.

His gaze slowly regained clarity, though the killing intent still lingered, cold and unrelenting.

“It’s not even human. How are we supposed to fight it?” Mu Jiu muttered in frustration.

“Senior, for a thousand years, Kunlun’s sword cultivators have secluded themselves, passing their legacy down to only one disciple per generation. Lord Beichen’s retreat after meeting you with his sword is Kunlun’s gesture of remorse.”

Bai Shuo’s voice was steady, her words resonating deeply.

Bei Chen seemed to grasp her intent, stepped forward, and knelt before “Rong Xian.”

Presenting his sword, he spoke solemnly:

“Kunlun bears its guilt, repenting for a millennium. Master, may you find peace.”

“The Fox Clan, though gravely wounded a thousand years ago, has since prospered with generations of exceptional talents. If Senior Linglong were aware in the afterlife, she would likely find comfort,” Bai Shuo said, turning to Mu Jiu with a meaningful gaze.

As the group shifted their attention to him, Mu Jiu pressed his lips tightly, unmoving.

He understood exactly what Bai Shuo was asking of him.

This “Rong Xian” was a manifestation of resentment, obsession, and inner demons.

No amount of spiritual energy could truly eliminate him, except through repentance and forgiveness.

But why should he forgive?

Were the lives of over a hundred ancestors of the Fox Clan worth nothing?

“Rong Xian” stared at Mu Jiu with cloudy, aged eyes, as though waiting for something.

Mu Jiu remained still, his grip on the small Wheel of Destruction tightening, his silence unbroken.

“To dissect a golden core alive, a thousand years of unrest… Lord…” Bai Shuo sighed softly, her words trailing off.

Before she could finish, Mu Jiu trembled all over.

He put away the small Wheel of Destruction and slowly approached “Rong Xian.”

“Enough. Everything you’ve done… it’s enough. Go.”

With a single sigh, Mu Jiu’s words fell.

Two drops of blood-red tears slid from “Rong Xian’s” eyes.

The Kunlun Sword in his hand trembled, letting out a mournful hum before disintegrating into powder.

The madness in “Rong Xian’s” eyes faded.

He turned to look at the three tombs, a serene smile appearing on his lips.

Then, as the Kunlun Sword vanished, so did he, disappearing before the group.

The thunderclouds dissipated, leaving everything in silence.

A single golden core, glowing faintly with white light, hovered in midair.

The tombs returned to peace.

Bai Shuo extended her hand and caught the golden core.